


Need You Now

by Aksannyi



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, F/M, Smut, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-03
Updated: 2009-10-03
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aksannyi/pseuds/Aksannyi
Summary: Songfic. The title of the song is the title of the story. Set in the present, so sometime after "Reunion." Tony and Ziva's desperate thoughts leading up to something they've both wanted and needed for years. TIVA sex , some season 7 spoilers.





	Need You Now

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first NCIS fanfic. I have never been a particular fan of songfics but I remember that when I wrote this, I couldn't get Tiva off my mind whenever this song came on and so I wrote it. 
> 
> Despite this being a repost of a fic I wrote years ago, I have not made any edits except to correct misspellings.

**Picture perfect memories, scattered all around the floor.**

What little of her belongings remained after both losing her apartment to an explosion and a sunken ship were scattered all over the floor of Ziva's new apartment as she attempted to find within this space some new sense of normalcy.

She'd left some clothing, a few books, and photographs in a locker at NCIS and retrieved them her first day back, in an attempt to rebuild what she'd once had. Luckily, she'd been able to find a furnished apartment not too far from where she'd lived before, though not close enough that she'd have to see the old building.

Memories of that night still stung a little, even after all of the other things she'd been through since.

Reaching down to the floor to pick up her articles of clothing and put them away, she happened across an envelope of pictures from her time at NCIS. She sat down on the floor, forgetting her mess, and spread them out, reliving each memory as her eyes glanced over them.

She and Tony dressed up to the nines before checking into the hotel the weekend they went undercover as a married couple.

She and Tony in California, catching some sun.

The team together, all in their black jackets and ball caps, Gibbs to her right, Tony to her left, and McGee to his. Tony's arm had been around her shoulder, and hers around his waist, to outsiders, a friendly gesture and nothing more.

Every new memory she saw brought more of her emotions to the front of her mind, and she desperately wanted to see him.

**Reaching for the phone cause I can’t fight it anymore.**

Tony sat in his apartment alone, in front of the television with a bottle of Crown Royal and a million distractions. He had no idea what was even on the television, but without its noise, the apartment was far too silent, and all he could hear was her voice in the darkness, the spoken and unspoken words between them hanging in the silent air.

No, the television needed to be on, he mused, or his thoughts would consume him. The whiskey was not helping in the way he'd thought it would, in fact, the more he drank, the more he missed her.

They'd shared so few stolen moments together that made him feel like she cared as deeply for him as he for her. He'd practically poured his heart out in Somalia, and her reaction gave no indication that she'd returned his sentiment. He _couldn't_ live without her, he thought as he looked at himself in this semi-inebriated state, or he'd drown himself in his own misery.

He wanted to see her. No, _needed_ to see her. He reached for his cell phone and highlighted her number, wondering what he'd say when she picked up, and closed it before he sent the call, reaching instead for his keys.

**And I wonder if I ever cross your mind.**

She looked up and out the window then, wondering what he was doing at that exact moment. Wondering if he could find the blessed sleep that she so desperately needed, but could not settle into. Wondering if he were instead lost in thoughts of her the way she was so fully locked into thoughts of him, of _them._

Had he thought of her as frequently as she'd thought of him while she was locked in that dingy cell in Africa? Did she cross his mind every day since leaving Israel, the way that she'd thought of him, and almost wished she'd jumped right on the plane with her team?

How many times had she thought of him, wondering if he was thinking of her as often? How many? Thousands? Millions? If she'd thought to keep track of every time he crossed her mind, she'd have lost count after the first hour in that tiny room.

Did he think of her that often?

**For me it happens all the time.**

He'd spent nearly every waking second thinking of her while she was gone. He couldn't stand the thought of not knowing where she was, how she was doing, and finally, when he and McGee spoke of her outside a café one evening, he realized what he hadn't acknowledged in months: something was wrong, because she wouldn't have gone that long without calling.

Thoughts of her had intensified, growing more and more insistent, until he finally knew that he could do nothing else without finding her; without bringing her back into his life. He thought of her by the day, by the hour, by the minute. Thoughts of her consumed him.

And now that she was back, he still couldn't keep his mind off of her. It was as though there was nothing else there for him to think except _Ziva, Ziva, Ziva._

He was thinking of her again now, as he grabbed the Crown Royal bottle off the table before leaving and staggered out his door.

**It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now.**

She glanced at the clock. 1:15, she noted, not even knowing how it had gotten so late, and caring even less about that fact. _Even if I did lie down_ , she realized, _I would not sleep_.

She felt so alone at that moment. Loneliness had never been a particular weakness of hers, but she felt it wash over her like it was a shockingly cold shower, painful and brutal, and she realized she needed to see him. She needed to touch him and smell him and feel his presence. She needed everything about him.

"Oh, God," she whispered to the darkness, feeling a tear in her eyes as the loneliness deepened with the awareness that she needed him, needed him to be in her life. She'd needed him - and only him - to come to that cell in Africa and rescue her, and she'd needed him to forgive her for doubting him, and she needed him right that second to be right there, and not spend a second longer without him.

She reached for her phone.

**Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control and I need you now.**

Before he even realized it was happening, he and his car had driven halfway to her new apartment, a place he'd been only twice but already instinctively knew the way to. He didn't know what he was even going to do when he got there, but he knew that he needed to see her, if only to quiet the sound of her voice in his head.

He listened to the radio as he drove, the lines on the road blurring before him, silently wishing there were no cops out. Even his buddies in the police department couldn't save him from a DUI. The music soothed him, and dulled his thoughts just slightly, but not enough to make him turn around and go back home.

 _What the hell am I doing?_ he thought to himself, _Driving drunk like an idiot just to go see her._ He knew she was probably asleep and would be less than pleased to be woken up by him right now, but he couldn't stop himself from going to see her anyway, like his body had a mind of its own and just led him there; like the need he felt drew him like a magnet to her.

**And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now.**

She looked at her phone for several minutes before deciding not to call him, knowing that he was probably asleep, but wishing he was closer to her.

She didn't know how she could go another minute without hearing his voice, so she called her voicemail and listened to his most recent message to her, hearing the charming sound caress her ear and reveling in the sound of it, like the most beautiful music, the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard when he asked her on one particularly hopeless day how her summer had been.

Even now, hearing his voice, though like a drug, sweet and intoxicating, was not enough, and she needed to see him, even if it meant waking him and dragging him out of a comfortable bed.

She'd drag him into another one, if only he'd let her.

**Another shot of whiskey, can’t stop looking at the door.**

He'd stopped in front of her apartment, debating whether or not he should go up. He took one final swig of his whiskey and tossed the bottle to the backseat. He stared at the passenger door beside him, as though she'd just walk up and open it, settling in beside him for a drive like they'd done so many times, enjoying each other's company and just being together. How many times had she opened that door? How many times had she sat in that seat beside him?

How many times had he looked at that same door wishing she'd been there to open it and slide in beside him while she was gone?

 _I could lose her again at any second,_ he thought to himself, and shuddered at the thought. He couldn't let that happen.

He stood up on slightly wobbly legs and exited the car.

**Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before.**

She held her phone for an eternity, looking at the door of her apartment, remembering the days before, when he'd come into her place, all smiles; the feeling of closeness they'd shared with each other that they probably shouldn't have had as partners, but had found anyway.

She could see him now, just breezing in the door as though it was his apartment, too, crossing brusquely through the living room and to the sofa, where he'd sit in front of the television looking for some classic movie to watch and teasing her about the fact that she didn't know anything about whatever film he'd chosen.

This was not the same place as those days, but she could imagine it just as vividly as if it _had_ been this place that she'd shared so many moments with him, and hoping that it could be that way in this new place.

 _Can we get that back?_ she wondered, wishing and hoping that the familiarity and closeness they'd shared would return, that she'd be able to hand him another key and allow him access to her space the way she'd always done. _And my heart,_ she thought.

She hoped desperately that it could be so.

**And I wonder if I ever cross your mind.**

Stumbling up the stairs of the building, he made his way inside the vestibule, pausing at the stairwell before deciding to take the elevator. He waited as the lights made their way from ten downward, counting down along with them, and wondering if she was going to kill him for waking her up at this time of night.

He wondered, too, if maybe she'd lain awake and just hoped that he'd come; if she'd been thinking about him, too.

He stepped into the elevator, pressed the 6, and watched the doors close, wondering if Ziva would even want to see him, as drunk as he was. Wondering if she'd gone to bed that night thinking of him, the way that he always thought of her every night before finally settling into sleep.

His thoughts were wandering in circles now, but he knew that his brain was just wrapped around Ziva, the only thing that had kept him going for the past four years of his life, and the only thing that could keep him going for the rest of his life.

**For me it happens all the time.**

Still clutching her phone, she again debated calling him, not wanting to wake him up, but needing to know he was there and he was real, and that she really was back in DC and that he really did come rescue her. Risking his life to ensure that hers would not end.

She thought about the first time she saw his face after all those months. Thought about it every day. Knew that the skip in time that her heart did told her everything she needed to know about how she felt about him.

Replayed his words in her head, day after day.

" _Couldn't live without you, I guess."_

Wondering if it meant what she hoped it meant, and wondering if they could forgive and forget and move on. And wishing.

**Its a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk, and I need you now.**

He looked at his watch. He knew it had to be later than quarter after one, but his mind couldn't wrap his head around the idea that his watch battery had died, and he accepted without argument that it was, in fact, only 1:15.

"Fuck me, I'm sloshed," he said to no one in particular, and giggled idiotically at himself. What the hell was he doing here? He was far too drunk right now, and she would send him away, admonishing him like a child in trouble.

He didn't care. He'd come here knowing that she would probably be pissed and annoyed at him but he just couldn't stop himself from the urge to see her.

His phone rang, and the display on the phone announced the caller as Ziva.

His eyes widened as he opened the phone.

**Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now.**

Why was she doing this? She asked herself as she dialed his number, but she'd dialed it purely as a reflex and chose not to hang up because deep down, she knew she needed to hear his voice. And not just a recording of it.

"DiNozzo," he answered with a slight slur. So he hadn't been asleep, she realized, all the while feeling her heart leap at the sound of his voice. _He's still real_ , she assured herself, always knowing that it was the truth but needing solid proof, and getting it.

"Can you come over?" she asked, trying not to sound as desperate to see him as she felt.

"Be there shortly," he said, and hung up the phone without another word.

He'd been drinking, that much she could tell, but he would come to her, even if he didn't know why, even if she didn't know if she wanted him to know why, he would come to her.

She hadn't wanted to call, she said a thousand times she wouldn't, but she did it anyway.

**And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now.**

He slowly walked crookedly down the hallway to her apartment. He didn't care that he could barely focus on the steps in front of him, he knew that it just didn't matter what state his mind was in, he just needed to see her. Needed to just know that she was here, she was nearby, and he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to.

He didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't see her _right now._ He just had to see her. He needed to see her, needed her.

Knowing she was awake and waiting for him, but probably not expecting him so soon. He didn't care, it didn't matter that he'd come here without being asked, what mattered was that she was waiting for him and that she wanted to see him, too.

He knocked once on her door.

**Yes I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all.**

It was as though he'd read her mind, because he was already there when she called. It didn't matter why.

She opened the door and he was there, standing in front of her, looking somewhat apologetic but desperate. Close enough to touch him. She pulled him into her apartment, and before he even managed to close the door behind him, she wrapped her arms around him and planted her lips firmly on his, tasting the whiskey he'd drank but not caring as she embraced him with every inch of her soul. He finally managed to shut the door with his foot.

He felt her arms wrap around him and he felt nothing more than his need engulfing him, returning her kiss generously and pulling her closer to him, needing nothing more than to feel her close to him; to know that she was there and she needed him, too.

A brief thought flashed in his head, that perhaps it wasn't real or it would be over before it even began, but it didn't matter to him, instead, he pulled her even closer and felt her melting into him as he continued to kiss her deeply, feeling her return every touch as though she needed him as desperately as he needed her.

**It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now.**

She felt the loneliness leave her as soon as she touched him, and the moment she brought her lips to meet his, she knew that she would never need to feel alone again.

She couldn't bear to let him go, clinging to him like he were the very essence of life itself. Breathlessly she took his hand and led him to the bedroom, needing everything about him, not just to know that he was real and alive, not just to know that he needed her, too, not just to touch him or smell him or feel him, but to be with him in every possible sense of the act of _being_ , and to become a part of him as much as he'd become a part of her.

**And I said I wouldn't call but I'm a little drunk and I need you now.**

He followed her wordlessly down the hall and into her bedroom, feeling need, desire, desperation, and truth all wrapped in one gut-wrenching emotion, and realizing that she needed him as badly as he'd needed her. He pulled her back to him, kissing her hungrily, touching her and feeling her as though it would be the last time, even though it was only the first time.

He pulled her to the bed, sitting down on it, taking her shirt off and pulling her on top of him. Feeling her tugging at his own shirt, and allowing her to remove it, and reveling in the feeling of her skin and his skin colliding, feeling the feeling of _them_ , of closeness and hotness and togetherness.

Needing to be even closer to her if he could, so close that he was a part of her and she a part of him.

**And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now.**

She hadn't been wearing a bra, he realized, and he reached around the front of her body to tentatively touch her breast. She moaned into him as he did, and it emboldened him to touch more savagely, needing not only to feel her, but to give of himself to her, freely, wholly.

She nibbled on his ear, gasping when he found a new spot on her body to caress, kissing his neck and whispering his name in his ear as he discovered her.

She stood up and took off her pants, and he leaned forward to watch her, realizing that underneath her pajama pants, she had not been wearing any panties.

"Oh, God," he whispered as he took in her naked form, feeling his arousal increase at the sight of her, feeling his need for her increase even more than he'd thought possible.

She crossed back over to him, pushing him back onto the bed, and pulled his pants and boxers off in one move, revealing his solid erection. She grabbed it with both hands, one on top of the other, and stroked him gently, watching his face as he gasped under her touch, very much enjoying how aroused he was.

She continued to stroke him with her right hand, and leaned in to take him in her mouth, glancing up at him as she did so.

"Ziva ... holy shit," he choked out, unable to believe what he was seeing and feeling. She teased him with her tongue, tasted him fully, evoking low moans from the man beneath her, moans which seemed to settle in the lowest part of her body and caused her to shudder in anticipation of having him.

She withdrew him from his mouth and moved back up his body to kiss him, feeling his arms wrap around her and moving down to cup her ass before his left hand found its way inside her moist center.

"Oh," he groaned out between kisses, "you are so wet." She moaned in response as he caressed her insides, massaging a passion between her legs, until she shifted her weight so that she was on top of him, poised to settle herself down on top of him. She could feel the heat of him against the most sensitive part of her body.

**I just need you now.**

"I need you now," she said as her moist lips met the very tip of his erect member, and he thrust upwards and into her, eliciting a gasp from both of them as he filled her completely.

"Oh, god," he moaned, kissing her again before she sat up and began to move on top of him. He reached for her breasts, caressing them with his hands, teasing the nipples with his thumbs.

He watched her intently as she moved on top of him, matching her movements with his own. Watched her bite her lower lip as she reveled in the pleasure he was bringing her. Watched her eyes widen as he reached down to rub her clit while she rode him.

Watched her explode into a beautiful oblivion as he brought her to orgasm, screaming his name, and bringing his own release just seconds later.

Watched her collapse on top of him, her body entangled with his, and whisper, "Oh, Tony," into his cheek.

And he held her, he didn't know for how long, but it didn't matter, all he knew is that he'd needed her and he'd never stop needing her. Needing her to kiss him like that.

Needing her to scream his name like that.

Needing her to love him like that.

She kissed him, understanding completely, and they settled into sleep, the sleep of sweet release.

**Oh baby I need you now.**


End file.
